Armchairs
by SweetDisposition34
Summary: When you first see her, you smile. With her fiery red hair and big brown eyes Emma Pillsubry could be a model. But you just as quickly realize she isn't. She has a serious problem, OCD, and you're her therapist. And her problems are yours now, too.


**Month 1**

When you first see her, you smile. It's almost an instinct- as if she alone brought that grin to your face. Her orange skirt, ruffled blouse, and yellow beads and shoes make her impossible to ignore. With her huge brown eyes- the biggest you think you've ever seen- and fiery red hair, she has you believing that she could be a model. But you realize just as quickly that she isn't.

Because on her hands are latex gloves, and you just know that there's Purrell in the purse she holds so close to her left side. You're fully aware that her warm, white smile has probably just been scrubbed, and you can't see a single wrinkle in her clothes or a kink in her hair. Her hands are held out slightly in front of her, palms flexed, like she's fending off the germs with every step. Her strides are short, planned, and cautious and you wonder how much effort it takes her just to step into your waiting room. You remember that you're a therapist for OCD, and you remember that this woman has a serious problem.

A problem that has become your problem, too, ever since you saw her name on your scheduled list for today that Dianna, your secretary had printed on your desk earlier this morning.

"Hello," you say, and when you see her eyes widen at the greeting, you remember not to shake her hand. When you don't extend your palm for her to take, you can visibly see her tense shoulders relax a little and her pursed lips form a small smile.

"Hi," she says timidly, "I'm Emma. Emma Pillsbury..."

"I'm Anna Macbeth, your new therapist. Come with me," you say, and as you walk back into your office, you wonder where she's from. Her thick Appalachian accent gives you a clue, but you still have to guess. Kentucky? Virginia, maybe?

You take your seat in your usual chair, the stiff recliner that faces away from the window. You gesture for Emma to sit in the gray armchair that has a view of the park below the complex your office is in, and you wonder what she's thinking. Why she's here. There's something about Emma that makes you want to help her, to know more about her.

"So, Emma, tell me why you're here, exactly? I see on your file it says you're Mysophobic and OCD, but do you want to tell me a little more about that? How these problems originated, maybe? And why you would like to go about fixing them now? I need you know what you want to achieve from our meetings so that I can set goals for your upcoming appointments."

She pales a little and her smile is tight. She blinks and takes a breath, "Someone, umm, a friend gave me you're card...I was always an organized kid, I guess," she begins, drumming her fingers against her thigh as she continued. I made a mental note to ask her where she got her skirt- I liked the style of it and wondered if it was from J. Crew. "But on my, umm, my eighth birthday, my family t-took me to a dairy farm. Johnston's Dairy, actually, we'd had a class project about careers and I liked how being a dairy farmer sounded, so I became quite obsessed with the prospect of it, actually..." she stops rambling when she sees you give her a more pointed look. No one said therapy, for anyone, was comfortable. "After the tour and the yogurt tasting, my older brother Garrett, he, umm, he pushed me into the runoff lagoon. And I've had a little trouble getting over the, uh, the smell of it."

She blushed, embarrassed. You can tell that there is probably more to her story- she seemed like she was in her late twenties or early thirties, so why get help now? You keep these thoughts to yourself, urging her to continue with just a few encouraging words. "So that's where your Mysophobia came from, Emma?" She nods. "But OCD, the compulsive scrubbing and cleaning and organizing, where did that come from, exactly?"

"Control." It's just one word, but you know what she means almost right away. Like many OCD patients, Emma just wants control over things. She opens her mouth, shuts it, then opens it again when you nod for her to continue.

"I was afraid of germs, of people, even, besides my family. And... and I just wanted control. I couldn't control my fears, or my panic attacks, or the smell, or the fact that I get really sick when I see blood or smell milk or dairy products. So many things were just... spiraling out of my control, I guess, and that's when the cleaning started. I was- am, actually, obsessed with just cleaning things and scrubbing, like somehow if I can't control anything else in the world, organization is one of the few things that I can. Because really, I'm, umm, I'm a mess."

"Well," you say, impressed. It took some patients weeks to reach the point that Emma had already arrived at and come to terms with. You know then that she'd gotten therapy previously, but had probably stopped just when it got uncomfortable. To regain that control she craved. You want to know why she was here, why now, why you? But you know that in time, Emma would tell you. "You're already ahead of the game, Emma, by admitting that your need for control leads to your compulsive cleaning, and that you know what triggered your irrational fear of germs. Truthfully, I'm impressed,"

you admit, smiling at her.

She puts her hand over her heart, genuinely surprised and grateful for your compliment. Maybe Emma wasn't so used to hearing good things about herself. You can tell her self esteem is low, but how low you aren't so sure. "So," you add, "Lets start with the easier stuff, shall we? Tell me a little bit about yourself, background, occupation, family life, anything really."

You settle farther back into the chair and give yourself a mental note to get something more comfortable to sit in at the Ikea sale this weekend.

"I'm thirty one," she says, blushing a little. You see her look down at her hands, and her eyes grow sad just like yours do when you notice that there isn't a ring on her fingers. "I grew up in Virginia," she says, smiling a little, and you give yourself a mental round of applause for guessing her home state correctly. "And I'm one of two kids, it's always just been my brother Garrett and I... I love him. He's been protective of me, always, s-sort of like an eternal 'sorry.'"

She's forgiving and kind, and this just makes you want to help her even more.

"I work at William McKinley High School, I'm the, umm, guidance counselor there." Her face lights up as she begins talking passionately about her work. You know she could fill up the entire appointment with talk about the students she loves so much, or the hilarious wit of the cheerleading coach, or the principal with a thick Indian accent and a strange vocabulary. But when her face falls a little as she mentions her co-worker, Will, you suddenly see exactly why Emma Pillsbury is here. In your office.

You don't probe her to tell you any more than she's already offered you, but you can tell that Will is an important part of why she's here. The way she chokes out the word "friends" when referring to him almost assures you that this Will she's talking about is so much more than a friend.

She pulls out her bottle of Purrell and pumps some quickly onto her pale palms, rubbing the gel around in a expert and practiced fashion. That little bottle, you think, is this woman's security blanket. You make another mental note to try to stop her from using it in your next meeting, but you wonder if that's too much too soon.

You'll soon realize that that exact same phrase- too much, too soon- is one of the very reasons that Emma is sitting in that armchair across from you, staring at the cars on the street below and looking small.

"Alright, Emma, I'll see you in two weeks. You can make your next appointment with Dianna, at that desk right to the left. And then after that we can determine the regularity of your next few meetings, and possibly try to get you on a new track, okay?"

"Alright," she says, smiling stiffly. You can tell she's uncomfortable. "Thank you," she adds quickly as she opens the door with a sanitizing wipe. This small act makes you smile a little, and you call out, "You're welcome, Emma. See you in two weeks," as she leaves the office.

You get home a few hours later that evening. Ever since your husband got that big promotion, he's been working extra late. You feel a little guilty for leaving Piper with the nanny until six o'clock every day, but it's the dinners and the bedtimes with your little girl that you cherish. Bill won't be home till around eleven, you think as you tuck the spaghetti you made into a Tupperware container and then place it on a shelf in the fridge.

Piper is reading in her room- she's so smart for being only eight- and you walk in to kiss her goodnight. Her red hair splayed gently across the pillow as you leave the room reminds you of a client from earlier that evening. You wonder quickly if Emma ever let her mother give her a goodnight kiss, something you hold so close to your heart, or if she was too afraid. As soon as this thought comes you push it away- her life is really none of your business until she decides to make it your business- but somehow you can't stop wondering about her.

There's something that you really like about Ms. Emma Pillsbury.

And you know right then as you leave Piper's bedroom and open the door for your loving husband, giving him a chaste kiss, that you want to help her to have everything that you have.

XXX

**Month 2**

You've seen her only twice when she arrives at your office promptly on that Tuesday afternoon. She's a few minutes early but you don't mind- you never mind with Emma.

Instead of her usual, wrinkle-free and pristine appearance, you are almost shocked to see how disheveled Emma looks today. Her red skirt and black and white striped sweater and rumpled, like she's been sitting down for a long time. Her telephone brooch that would usually made you smile or giggle a little bit is dangling from her sweater almost haphazardly, and her hair is mussed a little bit. Her eyes are red rimmed like she was crying, and her mascara is slightly smudged. Your mouth forms a small "o" when she enters the office, and Dianna gives her a sympathetic glance before sending her off in your direction.

"H-hello," you say to her, gently, gesturing for her to sit down in her usual seat. You sit in your new purple armchair (much more comfortable than the last one you had, despite it's ugly day-glo color. But Piper had insisted, and you just can't resist those eyes) but Emma remains standing. "I can't do this anymore!" she cries, holding her head in her hands as another onslaught of tears escapes from her eyes.

"Oh, Emma," you sigh, guiding her to the chair. But she's back up in an instant, pacing.

"Anna, I need to tell you about Will."

You nod, encouraging her to go on. From the way she's acting, you know that this is going to be difficult for her. The way she says his name is full of anger and laced in regret, but the look in her eyes when she talks about him lets you know that she's feeling something completely different- she just doesn't want to admit it yet.

"We've been best friends ever since I started working at McKinley," she smiles, elaborating. "He helped me through a mud puddle on my first day. But he was, umm, he, Will was married. To this awful, awful witch... Terri. She really didn't like me, she was the nurse at McKinley for a few weeks in the beginning of this year. I, umm, I was always in love with Will. He made me feel safe, like no germs in the world could get to me, ever. He was the only person I let touch me." The last part was barely a whisper, but your silence probes Emma on. "The football coach, Ken, proposed to me around the same time Terri became pregnant," she fumbles over the word. "I figured it wasn't meant to be, so I agreed, I settled. For Ken." You like the way she says "Ken"- it sounds more like "Kin" with her accent.

"But Ken left me at the altar the day of our wedding because I postponed the wedding a few hours to take the Glee Club, this club Will teaches, to their competition that Will... couldn't attend. For personal reasons."

"Which were?"

"He found out that Terri was faking the pregnancy- the whole thing had been a lie. She thought he would leave her. I resigned, but Will... he kissed me. And he convinced me to stay... it's pathetic, but, umm, Will was the second person I've ever kissed. And it was amazing. He cried, he said he'd felt something for me for years. And I felt the same way. I-it, it was supposed to be perfect! But then I found out that Will's been cheating on me with another show choir director, Shelby, and a drunk April Rhodes! And I... I called him a slut in the faculty lounge today, and I embarrassed myself and ruined Will's reputation a-and..." Emma is sobbing now, and your face twists sympathetically before you realize that she needs some Kleenex.

You hand her the box of tissues as she sniffles, and you have to refrain from touching her comfortingly. You know she's not ready for that, for human contact, however strange that might sound. But Emma isn't crazy- she's different. And not many people understand that. But from what you've gathered so far, Will does. And Will, whoever he is, must have been an idiot to let her go.

Emma continues, going into more detail. She blushes deeply when she admits her virginity to you and her expression grows sad when she recounts the rocky experiences of your brief time dating Will. You smile a little when she says, "I can't even hear Neil Diamond on the radio without wanting to ralph now!" But you just as quickly realize that Emma is completely serious.

"Listen to this," you say as she dabs her eyes. "It's clear you still have feelings for Will. But maybe you two could try talking out your differences in a more private setting than, say, the faculty lounge?" she blushes, embarrassed again. "And I think that maybe you should try to experience the dating world a little more. I know that Will is the only one who you feel completely comfortable around, but from what you tell me Will has really messed up. And he might now deserve you. So hear him out, but I want you to test the waters a little more too. There's other fish in the sea, Emma, you know that."

But as you say this, you can see the word's Emma won't speak clearly in her eyes. _But there's only one fish for me. And that fish is Will Schuester._

When you get home you feel exhausted, but as soon as you walk in the door you're pleasantly surprised to see both Bill (home early) and Piper asleep on the couch. You wish you hadn't lost your camera at the zoo last week, or else you would have taken a picture. The sight is quite priceless, actually.

You decide to have the Wegman's rotisserie chicken for dinner tonight, and you click on your kitchen radio while you chop vegetables for a salad to go on the side. You've only just started on the carrots when Neil Diamond's "Hello Again" begins playing on the radio, but you don't hesitate to turn it off.

You secretly hope that Will Schuester, whoever he is, did the same.

XXX

**Month 3**

You're more hesitant than she is. But Emma seems sure- or at least her words do (her eyes always betray her, and you're glad they do), when she tells you that she's dating Carl Howell, the only dentist in Lima.

Carl's attractive, you see him twice a year, after all, and he reminds you of the Uncle Jesse character from Full House, an old sitcom that Piper likes to watch on lazy afternoons.

"Emma," you say, "That's really nice to hear that you're finally getting around." You smile at her as she smooths her skirt, resisting the Purrell. Her anxiety right now is high and you can tell, but you just give her a few minutes to cool down instead. She sighs finally and you say, "I'm proud of you, Emma. And your progress."

It's your fifth meeting, and Emma's in a considerably better mood. You can tell that part of it is a facade, but you know that with Emma, she'll tell you when she's ready. It took her three appointments and three boxes of Kleenex to finally tell you about Will.

But Carl, Carl seems easier for her. And you're happy.

"We've only been out twice. But he's, umm, he's very nice and chivalrous, and handsome. And he smells like Clorox and Latex, like I like, and he's clean. Really clean," and we both giggle. At least she has a sense of humor, you think as she continues to tell you about their dinner and walk through Schoonover Park.

She tells you how he asked her out over the sterilizing machines at her monthly dentist appointment, and you feel suddenly like a proud parent. Emma is finally expanding her horizons, and you know that she might just be getting over Will.

But then you ask how work is going, and she shifts uncomfortably, her face falling. Her eyes almost glaze over with tears, but she takes a long blink and the glassy look disappears. "F-fine," she manages. "I, umm, I haven't spoken to him since he brought me the flowers. That was... that was a month ago, Anna."

Her words promise you that Carl Howell is a good idea, but those brown eyes tell you to talk her out of it. They're begging you, but you need to let Emma figure this out by herself.

You're glad that you have Bill at home, even though his work is becoming continually strenuous and difficult. But you know he loves you, and loves Piper, and that there's no hesitation in that.

But as you tuck Piper in by yourself for the third time this week and go to lay down in your huge King bed, only occupied by one, you wonder if that's just a facade too. You wonder when Bill is coming home, and you wonder if you're going to wake up alone tomorrow for the second time this week- with Bill already off to the office.

You miss his arms around you and his kisses on your neck and you wonder if this is what Emma felt like for the two years that having Will was completely impossible.

XXX

**Month 4**

She's crying again. You hate it when Emma cries, because it makes you feel a little sad too. "He kissed me, Anna," she chokes out between sobs. "Will kissed me and I kissed him back."

You're shell-shocked for a second, Emma seemed happy with Carl last week. But you know that she's becoming better at lying, and knows now to look down at her hands when she wants to get away with something so you can't quite see her eyes. But as Emma continues to tell you about Sue being a judge a Regionals, and Sue cheating, and Sue ruining Will's life, you don't seem too shocked anymore.

You can see it as plain as the nose on your face that Emma loves him. If Emma didn't love him, you know she wouldn't have had the guts to yell at Figgins for cutting Will's beloved Glee Club, "the only thing he has left!" or even consider giving him advice about the matter. If Emma didn't love Will, you know she wouldn't have even bothered telling him about Carl at all.

Maybe if she convinced Will that she wasn't interested anymore, that she was done, she would convince herself of the same thing. She takes a deep breath. "He grabbed my arm, Anna... he kissed me and told me he loved me. That... that was the first time he ever said that. And I could just see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at me, that it's true. That we aren't over, and that we, umm, we never will be. B-because I think I might love him, too."

You smile to yourself- you like it that Emma stutters when she's nervous. It's just another way for her to wear her heart on her sleeve. And if you, just her therapist can see it, then you know that Will can see it, too. And you care about Emma enough to be worried. You've never met Will so you can't help yourself from wondering how wonderful a man would have to be to still hold Emma's heart after all of the horrible things he did. But you look up at Emma again and there it is, there's that look- you're a therapist, you've seen it for years- that look that screams that Emma is head over Mary-Jane heels in love with this Will character.

"You know, Emma, I think you're right. Honestly, from the first day you set foot in this office, I could tell you loved him. But maybe it's best if you take some time for yourself-"

"I've had thirty-one years to myself, Anna," she says quickly, almost annoyed sounding.

You look Emma straight in the eyes, "Don't stay with Carl. But wait until the end of this summer to tell Will how you feel. It's for the better. It'll give you both time to think, and absence-"

"I don't care about absence, Anna!" She blushes as soon as she lets the cry escape her lips, and she stands up, beginning her pacing routine that she preforms whenever she gets overly stressed. It helps her get rid of that anxiety. But as a therapist you know that OCD patients need to sit through their anxiety to recover. "Emma, sit down," your tone is sharper and Emma complies. And soon as she sits her fingers tap incessantly on her thighs and she bites her lip. "Take deep breaths, Emma, try to calm yourself down without the pacing or the Purrell." She looks longingly at the travel-size bottle of the antibacterial that's in her purse, then snaps her gaze away as the anxiety leaves her.

"That was good," You tell her, "You just worked through your anxiety, Emma, and if you can do that well than you can work yourself through your own panic attack. That's huge progress. Good job, Emma, you have a lot of self control, which is something I don't see in many obsessive compulsive patients."

"Thank you," she said honestly. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Anna... it's just, I'm scared that if I wait all summer, than Will will have moved on. What if he's done with me by September? I-I'll be heartbroken, Anna..." Her eyes glass over, and you can see that more than anything, Emma is incredibly confused.

"Emma, listen to me. You just told me that Will grabbed you, and confessed his love for you, and kissed you. And that every single day for two months, he's left a flower and an apology note on your desk. Don't tell me that you're worried about Will leaving you- you shouldn't be. He'll wait for you just like you waited for him, because if I know anything about him from what you've told me, it's that you've both been in love with each other for so long you just about can't feel anything else. And that's okay, that's good, and I want that to last."

"Which is why I shouldn't jump into it right away like last time."

"Exactly," you smile. "I think that's all for today, Emma." She smiles, thanks you, and leaves. Before she's out of the office you call after her, "And Emma?" She turns around, "I love your sweater." She fingers the yellow buttons on her navy blue and gold sweater, and you know she's going to think of Will whenever she wears it. Just like that green peacoat she told you about- it's her favorite.

It's the middle of summer when you finally meet him. Or at least you think it might be him, but your gut tells you you're sure. Bill is on a business trip to New York, the third trip in two months, and you've taken Piper to Schoonover Park. She runs around the playground, "Mommy, look at me!" she calls as she completes the monkey pars with a practiced expertise. "That's lovely, P," you tell her ruffling her bright red ringlets. She gets them from Bill- you're hair is more of a dirty blonde color.

Her bright blue eyes shine up at you, then divert their path to something over your shoulder. You turn around to see a man coming closer to the both of you, smiling. He's wearing periwinkle and has intense hazel eyes. The mop of sandy curls on top of his head is what really makes him adorable, and he looks at Piper in a kind, fatherly sort of way. You've never met him before but you already like him.

"Hello," you say as Piper runs off to go see the clown making balloon animals in the corner of the park.

"Oh, hi," he says, as if you've just snapped him out of his own little world. You feel a little guilty. "Can I, umm, can I help you?" you ask, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"No, no, I was, umm, just taking a walk. You have a beautiful daughter..."

"Anna," you tell him when he trails off in the space your name should be.

"Will," he says, extending his hand for you to shake. It's strong but gentle, and he continues what he was telling you before. "You, umm, you have a beautiful daughter. She reminds me of, an, umm, of an old friend. With the hair," he tells you, "it's nice." His eyes fill with something like sadness, and he walks away after bidding you a quick goodbye.

Piper returns with her blue balloon poodle, and it's about an hour later that it clicks in your mind that you've finally met Will Schuester. Yes, you think as you twirl one of Piper's cherry red pigtails around your finger, Emma has absolutely nothing to worry about.

XXX

**Month 5**

You don't tell Emma over the next few meetings that you met him. But you assure her that there's nothing to be worried about.

"I'm lonely, Anna," she says, twisting uncomfortably in her cardigan given the late August heat.

"Not for long," you tell her, and you let her Purrell her hands this time before she leaves. Because this time, you're the lonely one.

Personally, you've checked out of your appointments for the day after Emma left. You tell Dianna to re-schedule your final three meetings for later this week and go home. You just want to curl up on the couch with Ben & Jerry's ice cream and eat away your troubles. Or something like that.

You're glad Piper's spending the night at your parent's house tonight- they didn't need an explanation from you and you're glad. Yesterday you went to visit Bill at work, to drop off the roast beef sandwich (his favorite) that he left at home for lunch. But as you see his empty office, your chest tightens.

You ask his assistant, Cara, where he might be and her face pales. "Mrs. Macbeth, Bill doesn't work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You know that," and she walks away. You feel unsteady on your feet and as you drive home you just let the tears spill from your eyes. That old Kelly Clarkson song that Emma like so much plays obnoxiously from the radio, and you wonder if your life really would suck without Bill.

When he gets home past eleven, you're waiting up. "Where were you?" you demand, "Where were you this entire year..." you keep yourself from crying, but only minutes later you're sobbing into your clenched fist, leaning against a kitchen chair for support.

Bill is gone-just like he has been every Tuesday and Thursday for twelve months- to be with another woman. She's younger and has seven tattoos. You thank the lord for MySpace, and it takes all your will power to look at her. You hate her because she's taller, prettier than you, with bigger boobs and fuller lips and luscious dark waves for hair. You don't know what you'll say to Piper when she hears you crying.

Bill is gone.

And this time, it isn't for a few extra meetings and a trip here or there.

It's forever.

XXX

**Month 6 **

Emma is smiling. A lot. You've had many meetings with Emma where she smiled, but here, she's the happiest you've ever seen her. It contradicts with your own emotions greatly- divorce takes a huge toll on people. You're glad it's October already and Piper is in school five days a week, giving you more space and time to think. Bill wants joint custody. You don't know what you'll do without Piper, but you don't know what Piper would do without Bill. You agree, and with a swift sign on a dotted line, initials here, last name there, you're divorced.

Emma notices the ring gone from your finger, then looks sadly at the picture of Piper that sits on the coffee table by your ugly yet comfortable purple armchair. You don't offer anything, she doesn't ask. You're glad. Telling the same story multiple times a day gets tiring after a while. "Irreconcilable differences," you say quietly, and Emma nods. She doesn't pat your knee or shoulder, she keeps her hands to herself as always.

You appreciate her tight-lipped smile nonetheless.

"So, Emma, you look happy today?" you say, but it sounds much more like a question, your voice raising up and octave at the end.

"Yes," she says, "I, umm, I am..." She blushes a little. "Will and I, I finally told him. And he asked me out, and we talked, and he came over to my apartment after we got dinner and coffee. And we talked, and we both cried. And he told me he still loved me he always would, and I said the same thing back to him... and we just fell asleep on the couch and then he carried me into my room when he woke up and it was just so sweet..."

"Did you, umm...?"

"Oh, no," she blushes a brighter shade of red. "We're going slow this time, Anna. But I, umm, I think I'm going to be ready soon. Will's the right person. And I realized that as he was about to leave last night... so I told him to stay over. In, my, umm, in my bed. And he did. We d-didn't do anything, but he just held me tight and it felt so good, Anna, I've been waiting so many years to wake up next to Will."

"And you finally did," you smile, standing up to refill your coffee cup. You're a little jealous, but you're so happy for Emma that you honestly don't care. "That's huge, Emma. I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you," she says earnestly.

"Are you going out again tonight?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. The Glee kids are preforming in Schoonover Park, so we're going there. Will is singing. He has such an amazing voice, you know," she grins and you can't believe that this is the same woman who was in your office about ten months ago, crying about some man she could never have. She's still a virgin, she's still a mysophobe, she's still OCD, but somehow you know that this is a brand new Emma. And you owe that to Will.

He makes her so much happier, and you wonder if Bill ever made you that happy. With Bill, it was all about things. It was about having sex, good sex, too, and him buying you lavish gifts in Tiffany-blue boxes, or him taking you around to dinner party after dinner party to show you off to his friends. But did Bill ever love you? You wonder. You wonder if you ever heard him say those words directly to you, and you conclude that no, he never did. You would say it, "I love you, Bill," and he would say, "Me too," or "Love you too," but he never would say it outright, say it first.

You knew somewhere in the back of your mind that he was cheating. It was just one promotion but Bill seemed to be off in a whole other world when he was away from home. Which was often. But then you would see how he held Piper so gently- though he was never there to kiss her goodnight, ever- and you pushed those suspicions away. Because you were supposed to love Bill, and he was supposed to love you, and Piper was supposed to have two parents who loved her enough to find it in themselves to love each other.

But you forget very suddenly about what's supposed to be, because that's never what actually is.

And you're the therapist, Anna.

And you need to be the one who can see the truth in all of the lies.

But you realize now that no one can do that, not even shrinks like you.

You take Piper to the Glee performance that night. Bill is out of the country on business (you know it's true this time, you've talked to his lawyer) so she's all yours.

You arrive at Schoonover Park, and Piper holds your hand. "Why are we here again?" she asks you pointedly. Piper's been growing up a little, too. Though she'll always be your sweet little girl, she's been especially irritable lately. Divorce is, sadly, getting the best of all of you.

"A friend of mine told me that the glee club from the school she works at, McKinley, is preforming here tonight. You like singing, and so I thought this would be nice. They've won their Sectional division two years in a row, you know," you say. Then you realize you've just referenced Emma as a friend, and you never say that about patients.

Truthfully, you don't have too many friends. It was always just Bill and his annoying posse for the last ten years. But in truth you've grown closer to Emma, too. She's been willing to listen to your problems for a minutes, and she's always so sweet. In the last year, she's become more than a patient to you. She's a friend. A good one, you think, even though she's paying you forty dollars and hour to talk to you about her issues.

But you're glad to help, and you don't need her money. You don't have time to think as you hear the music beginning, and Piper tugs you closer to the front of the crowd so she can see. She's short for being (recently) nine years old, so front row seats are the only option if you both want to see the show.

Emma is a few seats over, sitting with a few proud looking parents. You don't bother her, you tell yourself you'll say hello after the show. You wonder if you actually will.

The lights brighten and you see about six girls dressed in pink sundresses and white cardigans. They look cute and you could just about guess who picked out their costumes. They sing 'Put Your Records On' flawlessly, a beautiful blonde and an extremely talented brunette girl taking the leads. On the last few notes, a heavy set African American girl boldly raises her voice about that of the others, shining brighter with each perfectly pitched note.

A group of boys enter the stage, clad in brown leather jackets, jeans, and button down shirts. They look equally nice and put together as the girls had. Piper looks happy, quietly humming along. The boys begin a seamless rendition of 'Drops Of Jupiter,' the guitar that a wheelchair-bound boy plays is the only background music. A tall brown-haired boy takes the lead while another boy with a Mohawk takes a few verses himself.

You're smiling and you and Piper both clap as loud as you can. However, this does nothing compared to the extremely dorky clapping skills that Emma is currently exhibiting. "Who is that?" Piper asks, gesturing to the older red head woman who is yelling, "Yay Glee! Glee kids hooray!" at the top of her lungs. You giggle, "That's my friend, Emma."

"Oh."

The music begins again, and this time it's both the boys and the girls on the stage. They launch energetically into a version of 'Dog Days Are Over,' and everyone is clapping to the beat of the music. The lyrics remind you of Emma, and how she went from a crying, OCD woman who was helpless in unrequited love to a proud, controlled woman with a loving boyfriend.

_Happiness hits her,_

_Like a train on a track..._

Everyone cheers when the music stops, and the brunette girl that reminds you so much of a young Barbara Streisand takes the microphone. "Up next," she grins when the tall boy takes her hand, "Is a very special number. Our director, teacher, mentor, and friend is going to be preforming a very special song, and he says that he would like to dedicate this number to Ms. Emma Pillsbury. She's helped us out with so much- we wouldn't have gone to our first Sectionals without her, she's given us countless ideas and amounts of advice, and she's proved to us that some things are worth fighting for."

When the girl says this, you see Emma's eyes get huge. So do yours. So this is the girl who heard what happened in the hallway when Will kissed Emma on the last day of school last year. As the puzzle formulates in your head, finally complete, she finishes her short speech. "We wouldn't have Glee without you, Ms. P, and we all just want to say thanks!"

Piper is grinning from ear to ear when Will begins singing. It's just him on stage, a guitar in his hands. When he begins, you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. This is, in fact, the same Will you saw at the park a few months ago. You were right, and you give yourself a mental "Kudos."

"_Summer burns June to July, And we undress and take the dive, No one holds the hands that hold themselves, Remember who we are today,  
When sunburned souvenirs have faded, And we collect the moments on a self_," Will smiles directly at Emma, his voice ringing true. You wish for a guy like Will in your life, but as Piper squeezes your tense hand, you realize that you don't need a guy. You never have and you never will, because you have Piper, and she is your whole world.

_"And its all right if you feel like crying, but i won't leave you alone, Cause nothing in this world worth fighting for is easy, I thought you should know..."_ The words were so true. Nothing that's worth fighting for, worth living for, is easy. And everyone should know that. You remember when Emma told you that Will told her that _she_ was worth fighting for. And you immediately know why he chose this song for her. Their love took so long, but the fight is so worth it. They are each other's worlds now, and they always had been. Maybe being happy was hard for you. It is hard for you, especially now without Bill in your life anymore. But you're worth fighting for too, and Bill never had to fight. But you realize that you and your daughter are worth more than you ever thought possible.

_"Winter stirs the stars to life, And we still burn from autumn fires, Laughing even in our discontent, And on until the lion fades, And April wears a brand new face,  
Own the moments life is not for rent..." _Will's eyes are locked with Emma's and her hand is pressed to her heart. Time had always went on for them, but Emma says to you that even in the rough times it only takes Will to make her smile. You also laugh quietly to yourself about the utter perfection of this song. It was like it was written for Will and Emma alone. After all, the alcoholic woman that Will shared a bed with was named April, and now she's in rehab and has been sober for four months. A new face, of course.

_"And its all right if you feel like crying, but i won't leave you alone, Cause nothing in this world worth fighting for is easy, I thought you should know..." _As Will continues, you feel a tug on your arm. You look down and see Piper, smiling up at you. "He's really good," she says into your ear. "I know," you grin, "and you don't even know the story." She doesn't ask you for more, she just turns her ginger head back to the stage, captivated like the rest of the audience.  
_  
"Finish what you say, don't throw it all away, There is no way i can save us both anymore, Still i'm on my way, A hero saves the day, So open up yours eyes and __open up your door, You're worth fighting for..." _Will's voice grows higher and stronger then, and you gasp. This is too perfect, and you think to yourself that it's no wonder Emma cares so much about him and this club. You know he's good for her, you know he loves her so much, and you were right about him that he was a good person. You look over and see Emma, her hand over her mouth in delicate surprise, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes are locked on Will's as if it's only the two of them in the world. You feel like you're intruding on a private moment so you snap your gaze away back to the stage.

_"It's alright if you can't stop smiling, Cause i know just how you feel, You're the one thing in this world worth fighting for, I need you now more than you know...  
Remember who we are today, In 20 years when the pictures fade, 'Cause you can't rest a good life on the shelf." _When Will finishes, you realize two things.

The first is that you need to buy this song on iTunes. And the second is as you and Piper turn to leave the park, you're crying too.

XXX

**One year later**

Emma still comes to see you, this time once a month. Will usually comes with her now, holding her hand tightly. You're friends with them now, better friends than just patient and therapist. You have them over for dinner sometimes, and more often than not, Will ends up singing for Piper.

Her favorite song for an entire year now has nothing to do with Hanna Montana, but "Worth Fighting For" instead. You could listen to it for hours, too- it reminds you of what's important in life.

Because sometimes, we all need a little reminding.

You were overjoyed when Emma walked into your office a week after the performance, I diamond ring on her fourth finger. Your invitation came in the mail a week later with a bright yellow and periwinkle color scheme. You grin, it reflects her taste almost exactly.

When four months ago Emma came into your office with red rimmed eyes and a frightened expression, you were almost at a loss for words at her inconsolable state. But with countless hours of reassurance from Will, two sessions with you, and one horrible panic attack in your office, Emma is convinced she'll make a great mother.

With her six-month belly she strolls into your office, wearing the same yellow necklace she wore to her first appointment with you. You don't know why or how you remember it, but you do. She says a quick hello to Dianna, who smiles and ushers her into your office. Your filling out a survey for another patient on the computer when you look up and see her glow.

You smile, then move to sit down in your purple armchair, relaxing into it's comforting cushions. As always, Emma sits across from you, facing the window.

"Hi Anna."

"Hey, Emma," you say, "What can I do for you today?"

XXX

**Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my latest piece, serving as a help for my writers block with Numbers and The Sweetest Faces which I WILL update soon! Promise! I'm going on vacation until next Sunday, so I wont have any writing for you until about then. The songs used in this fic were:**

**Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae, Drops of Jupiter by Train, Dog Days are Over by Florence & The Machines, and Worth Fighting For by Nine Days. I'll try to post links on my profile, but you should check them out, they're all amazing songs!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, if I did, Will and Emma would be happily together 3**

**Review! Thank you!**

**-Liv**


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